


Four Little Words

by LillyNelle



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyNelle/pseuds/LillyNelle
Summary: Content with his bachelor life, everything suddenly turns upside-down when a certain miss has gotten herself engaged.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 79
Kudos: 290





	1. Where Do I Begin?

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely adore Polin but oh dear, I really want to knock some sense into Colin. Can't wait until season 4 and meanwhile I will get by thanks to books and fanfics. This is my contribution.

"Count Bloody Lancaster, I hate that man."

Seeing how many more reasons Mr Bridgerton would have to loathe this man, this would just be the start of it.

The count's mere existence irritates him enough. Let alone having that moron attending the very same ball. But as if that is not enough, this bugger does the one thing that truly drives Bridgerton up the wall. This excuse of a nobleman, has the nerve to pick the one lady he was not supposed to.

Mr Bridgerton has barely been home for a day, coming home from his traveling. Oddly, for someone who looked forward to this return home, suddenly all he wants is to rewind time to before he left.

To top it all, here he stands, not looking like his best version at all. Just because he thought this to be just one of those endlessly tiresome balls. Where he would have to keep himself preoccupied or else his mother would try to match him.

Back home before the carriage had arrived to pick them up, his mother had stood by the entrance room, accompanied by Benedict.

"Colin," her tone had been accusative. "Aren't you even going to try to look decent tonight?"

Certainly he did not make much effort. Why would he help her with these marriage-encouragements?

Sheepishly he had used the idea of his mother's view of him being the precious and always-adorable son, who just had returned after a long exhausting trip.

Charmingly, he had grinned. "Mother, please, I'm a Bridgerton."

As if this would have been enough. Yet the idea of this certain redheaded someone he yet had not encountered after his return, he had quickly thrown that additional glance in a nearby mirror. Just to make sure he would be respectable. Not that he expected her to be anywhere but at that corner, exchanging a pleasant laughter with him. Yes, that is literally what he foresaw.

The rest his mother had spoken to him as he was ushered into a carriage.

"Even so, my dear. You are of proper age to embark marriage and if I may, I'd like to see you make an effort."

But it was more spoken to Lady Bridgerton's own ears. Just a hopeful wish that she could possibly be lucky if he heard it.

Shaking his little memory from earlier tonight away, pushing aside his preparations, or rather non-preparations back home - here he is right now, at this ball. Just moments ago, he was in belief he has had a rather good catchup with most. However somewhat troubled with the tugging hint of this someone he had not yet spoken with. Talking, mingling and getting a great word shared with most, he could not neglect the partly unsettled twist inside of him. Looking around for his friend, yes precisely, friend, he would face disappointment upon understanding she was probably not present this night.

Until now.

The moment when he looks at her and his spoken words of the count slip out thoughtlessly.

His redheaded and always-available friend, is smiling widely and dancing with this… count? Which would of course not have been a problem, at least this annoyingly big, unless they would not have been looking at each other like that. With that piercing sparkle, glimmering eyes and almost blushing shyness.

It is a sickening sight.

Awful.

"Admittedly harsh words," Anthony smoothly leans to Colin, who stands in between his brothers, while the eldest brother comments on Colin's first statement.

Well, it is true. He does hate that count. That man has always been an annoying bugger. To top it all, he dances with the one Colin does not want this bloody count to dance with. Due politeness, he would like to glance to Anthony as he answers him. But quite frankly, he cannot tear his gaze from the person who has completely captured it.

He will never admit to how gravely mesmerized he is by her. No, not happening. Ever. He must simply be staring at this scene because of annoyance of who she happens to dance with. It has nothing to do with how divine she is.

"I didn't even know she was here tonight," he frowns to the scene in front of him.

Somewhere behind his neck, Benedict and Anthony share a glance. However Colin is way too absorbed into getting himself irritated by the disgusting view. That infernal excuse of a nobleman, has his arms around her. How can this be? What the heck happened since he left? Where did something go wrong?

Definitely, something has heavily gone wrong.

Benedict is the one making the taste in Colin's mouth further sour. "She has been on the dance floor all evening."

"What?" Colin practically spits. "With whom? Him?"

So whilst he has been hanging out in any ballroom but this one where all is dancing, in belief this room to give him the smallest chance of encountering her, she has been here all along. She has been dancing with the count.

Again, Benedict shares this look with Anthony, before he clears his throat to snap Colin's attention. "Curious of your remark. What makes this count earn your cussing?"

Uncomfortable to the hint of questioning, Colin straightens his back and is ready to give away any answer but the obvious one.

"Used to compete with me back in school. All the time. An annoying bloke, quite frankly."

Mirroring each other in the line they stand, the three brothers sip their beverage.

Unable to refrain from it, Benedict's neediness of sarcastically mimicking Colin takes over. "Used to."

Truly, Colin would like to retort to his brothers. Point out to them, to stop focusing on buggering him and instead perhaps save their friend from this count, together. But with everything he has, he annoyingly just does not manage tearing his stare from her.

Stunning glittering woman. Is this really his sister's friend? He quite cannot remember her like this. Yes, she looks the same but still not… the same. He has always looked upon her as likable, cute and rather sweet. Which he quite also would expect as of tonight.

He has no idea what has flown into his head since last time he was here, but that woman out there is anything but 'likable, cute and rather sweet.' Instead, the words, 'enchanting, lovable and rather seductive,' are what ramble in his mind.

Something unfamiliar… yet homey? Words do usually flow him easily, yet now he cannot come around what wall of bricks he has knocked into. Perhaps it is for the better, right? Colin does not see this woman in those sort of lights, now, does he? This is a woman he looks out for, certainly nothing more.

In an inward battle, he cannot come to grips with what causes the tipping point in this aggressiveness though. If it is the idea of having this bastard back in town or the fact that now of all times, he finds himself unable to stop staring at his redheaded friend. Dear, he is pathetic. Almost behaving as if he were her suitor. He has got to stop before his brothers will begin to accuse him of it.

Forcefully, he makes a new attempt to look away from her. Maybe he shall direct his thoughts to food. All the delicious food there is.

Like caviar, crackers, grapes, pineapple and… her, and there she is, and she is moving, dancing, beautifully, softly, charmingly and…

God, what the heck, Colin?

He is acting as if he never has laid his eyes upon her, ever before. Please, can someone knock some sense into him?

Probably he cannot stop staring not because of the fact there happens to be a beauty over there, but a hell forsaken moron. It has nothing to do with how he can lick his lips by the mere sight of her. More of the awfully sweet sight of that clown involved in such a disgustingly sweet image with his redheaded female friend.

Nonetheless, it annoys him. Everything annoys him. Everything with this sight annoys him.

"Well, for a change," Anthony announces as if this is something merry. At least successfully, he smacks Colin out of his trance. "How very fitting then, Count Lancaster finds interest in the one and only woman you've never attempted to court, seeing how you've never made a move with this one, this past decade."

Dear, he cannot even begin to understand why his brother's words make him want to just walk up to the sickeningly sweet pair to just pull them apart as it is.

"Ever since the count has been back, he joins us for hunting," Anthony continues to explain. "An excellent hunter."

An excellent hunter?

Oh, Colin can bet!

He has for God's sake hunted his Featherington down! How in the world, is it that the most important person in this town, ends up trapped in the embracing dance of this fool?

Benedict pokes his shoulder and manages snapping Colin's attention away from eating up Miss Featherington.

"Why don't you join us for a proper hunt? It's been too long," he sells. "Tomorrow morning, brother. Early."

He cannot quite decide what sounds worse. Waking up overly early to head outside in the chillier morning, or meet up with that dumpster - early.

Anthony disagrees, successfully teasing Colin's red vision to not see his brother's tactics through. "Are we sure you're recovered enough from your travels? I mean, Mother would kill Benedict if something were to happen to you."

Excuse him? Colin is surely just as capable of a hunter as that count. "Count on me for tomorrow."

Offended, Benedict sourly wonders. "Why would Mother kill me?"

"I'm her firstborn. There are grand babies for her."

"Well, I'm doing the marital act enough to possibly give her some!" The second brother reacts.

Before either has a chance of continuing their bickering, Anthony silences it by gesturing to what goes on in front of them.

"Speaking of which…"

And he quickly pulls Benedict away with him to leave Colin to his destiny.

Further away, across the room, his Featherington stands. Or, she is not his, of course, in that sense. And she never will be, naturally. It is just that she is his friend. His beloved friend. That is all. Alone by a set table that offers anything from exotic fruit he would personally eat on his travels.

He has seen her eat many times before. But this time by the sight of her lips devouring this piece of fruit, he must pray he is not drooling.

Magnetically as if someone has pulled him, he ends up on the other side of the table. Intently eying her up-close. He should really announce his presence. But his mouth refuses to open.

Seeing they have been friends forever, one would believe a simple greeting would slip him easily. A polite 'good evening' or even a hidden and playful accuse of her not approaching him during this evening. Just something to lightly greet her and let her know he is there. And, bitterly, he must admit the striking fact of her not noticing him tonight. Which is actually rather hurtful.

Weirdly, this time he finds everything too difficult for his own liking. His lips are glued and seemingly, he cannot stop staring at hers. Not can his vision stop falling down to her cleavage either, as if he never has seen one before. Has she always had such a tempting bosom?

God, Colin, stop it! This is his friend.

What the heck is going on with him? Is this a reaction by pure irritation of her giving her friendliest, most wonderful, glistening smile to not only Colin anymore - but to his worst enemy of them all?

Not to mention - how come she does not look up and notice him, as for now? As if her not noticing him at his ball tonight is not enough, but she still does not see him even when he is literally standing in front of her.

She used to sneak glances in his direction all the time! What, has he now all of a sudden grown totally invisible for her?

He has been gone for a year! Not a lifetime!

Her traveling divine eyes search along the table yet annoyingly seem to miss his existence. And he is bloody standing in her face, staring her down as if this is the first time he comes across this sensual beauty. As if he wants to pin her by a nearby wall and claim those lips and…

He clears his throat. This sensual beauty? He has got to stop this ranting about her or else he may actually trick himself into thinking he is after her, for real. This is nothing but a friend. Who may happen to be more sightly than he can remember her.

Oh, now she looks up? Did he clear his throat out loud? Apparently. Silently he suddenly wishes for a way to invisibly disappear.

With her eyes shot to him, he feels as if he is knocked at the same time as he is completely numb. Literally under the mercy of her gaze.

What is he supposed to do now? What is he even supposed to say?

For that matter, her magnetic presence does not make anything in him work any easier either.

Has she always had that depth in her gaze? It is like she has captured his and he is incapable of tearing it away.

And why is he getting nervous? It feels as if his heart may pop out of his chest. He needs to stop acting all irrational. This is not alike him. This is his friend for the love of Lord! Why is he acting all weird?

Charmingly, she smiles. Fortunately unaware of what damaged debate twists Colin inside out.

"Mister Bridgerton," she lets out, genuinely surprised as if this is the first time she sees him tonight. "You're back?"

He refuses being offended by the knowledge she actually has not noticed him until now. Was he not the apple of her eye? That is at least what he has been told by his brothers. That she kept awing at him. Clearly, she has done anything but it tonight. Frankly, it disturbs him.

Proud-stomached he stands and faces the inward battle of not revealing his sudden nervousness in her presence. Which is odd, seeing they are just friends. As they always have been. Friends. Nothing more. And more importantly, what they always will be.

"It's been a while, Miss Featherington," he titles her back and swallows again.

If his brothers had been nearby, they would for sure have noticed his constant sweating. If there is something he is thankful for, that must be it.

"It has," she agrees and continues to search for fruit until she finally gets her hands on grapes. "A year must have passed since you were here."

Well, upsettingly the answer is yes. But if he had known he was needed to look out for her, he would have returned much sooner.

"I kept my eyes to that corner, thinking if you'd been here tonight, I'd find you there."

Her tranced smile remains. "Oh, forgive me, Colin. I've been rather… occupied, I suppose."

Occupied? Why lay it out that finely?

She has been dancing with that clown!

And come again, is she not even the slightest upset that the two of them have not spoken tonight? That she has missed Colin being here tonight? She, the one who always happily accepted his offers in dancing?

How can this be?

What has that forlorn moron done to make her not even notice Colin? All gone in her dreaminess, smiling this beautifully as if she is entranced. Admittedly, even he finds himself completely held under her gaze. But his vision is also unintentionally drifting to those luscious lips of hers, as if he wants nothing more than to try them.

Stop it, Colin. He is behaving all indecent. All he does is looking out for her. Right?

"Did take a note of that," he forces himself out of his dizzy mind. "Was it," he pretends to ponder. "That Baron Johnny, if I recall him from my school days?"

Not affected by his insult of not only misnaming Count Lancaster, but also missing his title, her smile only grows wider.

"Yes."

What, is she not even going to correct him?

Clearly not. Hopelessly, she is still smiling and he actually begins to wonder if he may throw up. His dearest Penelope, is all infatuated, totally gone in her crush held for another man. He has never seen her like this and really, it disturbs him. Highly.

It straight out annoys him.

God, it is almost painful to witness.

But if only things would have stayed here. As the unfortunate soul he is, just as he thinks this night cannot get any worse, he sees the only thing that can slam him all down.

If he would have known these news were on his path of destiny tonight, he would have stormed out of this ball even before he entered those doors earlier this evening.

That shimmering diamond on her finger cannot be mistaken. No matter how much he tries to come up with possible explanations of what such a ring is doing there on her. Such a grandiose thing. Something he wonders if even he could afford her.

Not that he, in any case whatsoever, would find himself in a position to buy her such type of a jewelry, right?

Even so, he has never witnessed a more infuriating sight in his lifetime. Penelope wearing that count's ring.

"What is that?" He wonders and gestures to her hand.

Sensing his disliking tone, she almost makes an attempt in hiding it from him. "A ring."

A ring? He bloody understands it is an infernal ring!

"I know it's a ring," he points out and hopes his tone is more polite than hostile, as it is in his mind. "Question that embarks my curiosity, if I may, is what it's doing on your finger? That finger?"

There is just one answer but he refuses to believe it. As if he is fighting into the end, even when he clearly has lost.

Her previous dreamy vision is all gone. Confused she eyes him back. Stunned and astonished to how he takes such liberty of questioning her like this. With her most seeking gaze, she is looking for answers. Which he is not intent on giving her.

But her look says it all. She is engaged to be married.

For knowing her for so many years, he can read her expression better than she probably understands.

He swallows in utter frustation. His dearest Penelope Featherington is going to get married.

Where is a nearby bin? He may throw up for real now. The only one who was not supposed to get herself wrapped around another man's finger, has.

Thankfully cutting all tension by their sudden presence, Anthony and Benedict are back. Whether they are aware of what inappropriate conversation they interrupted or not, Colin is regardless appreciative someone forcing him out of behaving irrationally towards Penelope. Yet he still needs a word with her.

"Everything looks delicious," Benedict inspects the offers on the table with overly enthusiasm. Instantly he has Colin's miss taken from him, to instead participate in conversation with the brothers.

Whilst Anthony simply throws Colin a warning glare, as if he would be doing something indecent.

Ignoring his brothers's tryout of coming in between, he is truly acting on pure impulse as he directs Penelope again.

"If I may, Penelope," and her undivided attention immediately shoots to him. "I would love to have next dance with you."

Her stunned look quickly forms as if she asks for his forgiveness. "Perhaps at the ball next week, as I unfortunately have to decline tonight. My book is filled, I fear. Forgive me, Colin."

She what?

Apologetically this beauty excuses herself as she must leave for the count, and left to the cold, stands Colin. He does not even bother to face his two sighing brothers, that continue to silently communicate with the other one.

Did Miss Penelope Featherington just dismiss him?

Seems like it.

Heavily, Anthony taps his shoulder as if it shall comfort him. At least it works to awaken him from World Penelope.

"Come join us tomorrow for a good hunt."

"With the clown being there?" Colin pretends to consider. "Do I even have a choice?"

Seeing him through, Benedict joins them closer.

"You have rather descriptive words of Count Lancaster. Do I detect a hint of envy?"

A hint of envy? As if Colin would have a reason to be jealous of Johnny-Count?

"As I previously said," he repeats. "I went to school with him. He's simply not worthy of Pen."

His brothers can look at each other all they want with this stupid silent conversation they keep having. But Colin will not have it. What rubbish is there, him jealous of that count? For putting a ring on his best friend's finger? Someone better have a stronger drink before accusing him of such nonsense. He is just protective over his friend for God's sake.

Although yet again, his eyes drift to the dancing redheaded woman, now finding her nothing but divinely enticing. How her voluminous hair makes him imagine how it would feel to pull his hand through it. Later grab the back of her head as he leans down and pulls her towards his searching lips.

No, he is not jealous. Not at all. He would not at all like to be that man dancing with her, looking at her like that and having the undivided attention of hers like that. He is so not jealous of being able to rightfully aim to claim Penelope.

Not. At. All!


	2. To Tell The Story of How Great a Love Can Be

Penelope is getting married?

Penelope.

Come again?

To say that Colin Bridgerton even slept a full hour this night, would be an exaggeration. Everything feels bad, as if he has been stabbed. Such a time upon his return back home tends to be nothing but a festive moment. All who has waited for him, all attention given to him, the peace of finally being back home and just enjoy his days as they come. This particular time is nothing like those other times.

Well, he is just upset his best friend has gotten herself engaged with that count. Because Count Lancaster is unworthy of Pen. That is the only reason this all bothers him, he can assure that. It has absolutely nothing to do with how his inner urge literally screams for him to just walk up to her front door and knock himself through it, to pick the miss up and never return.

This is awful. Thankfully, seeing he anyhow needed to wake up early for this stupid hunt, he has no reason to continue to just linger in bed and forcefully try to sleep. Instead he eats his breakfast in silence, all alone as a servant keeps offering him whatever he likes to eat.

In luck he is, when he passes a tired Eloise in a hallway later on.

"Already up?" He is surprised.

Constant yawns alongside rubbing her eyes, reveal her intentions of returning to bed.

"Just needed some warm milk," she mumbles sleepily, quite making her way forward as if she sleepwalks. Suddenly she stops to fully question him. "Why are you up?"

"Going for a hunt," he explains, somewhat addressing to his suitable clothing. "With Anthony and Benedict. And that… count."

"Best wishes," she is about to continue her way down the hallway when he understands his impulses cannot be hindered.

"Eloise!"

She turns and he inwardly twists in realization there is a risk she will think of him as overly nosy. Although at this point, he does not really care.

"Please, tell me about this engagement."

"What engagement?"

"Penelope's."

Tiresome as if this is the last thing she wants to talk about at this hour, she sleepily yawn.

She tries to awaken more but does not make much effort. "To Count Lancaster?"

"Are you implying there are other men than this twerp, proposing to her?"

Even Eloise throws him this skeptical eye upon his descriptiveness of the count.

"Of course not," she corrects before taking her time to give him any details. "They met about a month ago and everything has quite escalated until his proposal, moreover as for now. Admittedly, quite odd to see how he turned my best friend into this hopeless romantic. Although I emphasize my happiness for her."

With his deepest intriguing eye, Colin gives away his intention of wanting to hear more. Furthermore, Eloise goes on.

"They're marrying in a month."

"IN A MONTH?!"

His sister jumps at his outburst and he must gather himself to not fully explode. How can this be? Penelope has not quite shown interest in any man and now this clown comes along to just sweep her off her feet within a two month-period?! Seeing how she never threw herself at men's feet by her first season, Colin figured she almost aimed to be a spinster. How come this count succeeded to change her mind?

Penelope has never told Colin that she is attracted to him, that she fancies him or any of that kind. Which disturbs him, seeing how many other women literally have been throwing themselves on him. What does this bloody count possess, that Colin does not? What makes him worthy of Pen's approval, that she refuses giving Colin?

What is wrong with Colin? Why does she not fancy him?

"What can possibly be this spectacular about that count?" He demands out loud to nobody in particular.

Shrugging in complete agreement, Eloise lets out. "You tell me, brother. But she appears to be completely taken by him."

More of this most important conversation, he would have to postpone. Anthony shows up at his side and presses a finely cut sandwich in his hand.

"Come on, the horses are waiting."

Going for a hunt can be such a heavenly moment in the early morning. Tranquility of silence, none of the Londoners around and just the sound of horses trotting. Whilst his brothers share a conversation, he personally does his best to keep out of it. Basically, he is way too tired to really catch what it even is about.

By a forest, he notices a group of familiar faces. All friends of his and their little morning greeting is surprisingly cheerful at this early hour. He does greet all of them, but his effort to the count reaches to no more than a shared nod.

He cannot believe that this will be Penelope's husband. A man that she shall share her life with, live with and even share bedroom with. Dear, that last thought makes him sick. For whatever unknown reason. Clearly The Bridgertons have welcomed her as one of them for so many years by now, that she literally is. Therefore, the idea of her getting herself involved with the wrong type of person, would consequently upset them all. Rationally that includes Colin himself, perhaps even in particular, seeing he has found himself being one of Pen's closest acquaintances. He is just being protective of her, taking on a role he is supposed to take. Seeing her father is gone, this is something he has got to bring down. Her staying away from men like the count has fallen upon Colin's shoulder. This is his responsibility now.

"Bridgerton," the baron, farmer, count, moron, whatever, rides beside him as if he is seeking Colin's company. Dreadful man and Colin really does not want to interact with this man this early. However, he is still curious to what brought Penelope to fall this headlong for such a man. "I've heard you've been traveling this past year. Must've been quite an adventure to have you gone this long."

Is this a tryout of a wrapped insult, or is he genuinely trying to make conversation?

"Indeed," Colin sets the tone. "You've been gone for years yourself, Lancaster."

"And now I'm back. Things have changed."

Well, everything has changed, has it not?

Agreeing to this, Colin tries not to sound too snappy. "If I knew how much, I'd probably would've been home since long aback."

Meanwhile the count nods, he probably is not aware of the reason why. "Things do change shortly. Look at me. Went to that school you and I attended for years, moved across the country for about a decade. Now, by a month's period, I've met the woman that I shall marry."

As if this count needs to remind Colin about it.

This is a nightmare. Just a week ago, he was contently living his traveling lifestyle. Sipping his morning tea by this hour, or even still sleeping. In belief everything would be the same back here. Boy, was he wrong.

"Of what I've understood," the count goes on. "I've got the impression she is a friend of your family."

"Yes, we've known her forever."

"Then you must be grateful your friend is marrying up," the count speaks confidently, eyes forward and barely giving Colin a glance.

Which is good, because Colin is unaware of his own fuming.

"Bridgertons are protective of her. What's in her interest, is of ours."

"That close?" The count muses aloud, sounding rather impressed. "It surprises me though that neither you nor your brothers would claim her to marriage. Particularly you, as the unmarried one at this age."

Oh, can just someone shut this clown up already?

Deciding to re-direct focus back to the count, Colin quickly retorts.

"What are your plans after the wedding?"

Really, it feels surreal to speak about this. Discussing another man's ideas after he has wedded Penelope. God, for some reason, it feels as if Colin may have believed she would never get married. That she would always stand by that corner, all by herself and intriguingly engage in a funny commentary mood upon him accompanying her. That is how it has always been between them. And for some, perhaps naive reason, he believed that was how it always would be.

"Since my father died I have yet to visit his properties in the Caribbean. But to settle and create a decent life, I'm giving her one of our properties in New England. As a wedding gift."

Is Colin understanding this right? This idiot is taking his Penelope across the Atlantic Sea?!

"You are moving to New England?" He probably swallows half the words or snarls them. He is just too upset to get what his mind grasps of it.

This moron is abducting his Pen across the world? Has he gone mad? No one can just take her away from London like this? Let alone England?

Not that far. Even Colin travels far. But not that far. America is a whole different story.

"A terrific place to raise my coming heirs."

Heirs?

That again. The image of someone indulging in Penelope, like that. Kissing those tempting lips, waking up by her side to meet the divine sight of her naked body and sharing those late dinners with her precious laughter. The mere thought of this is enough to drive Colin into madness.

"Fittingly for an engagement gift, I'm in fact heading to that modiste afterwards. Thinking of gifting her a yellow gown. Never seen her in one."

Never seen her in one? For a bloody good reason! Pen hates yellow dresses.

"You're going to give Miss Featherington a yellow dress?" Colin questions incredulously.

Does this man even know Penelope?

"It will fit her well," the count confirms confidently. "I've always preferred yellow upon my mistresses. It'll be my future wife's signature as well."

"You'd think she'd approve of that?"

Now, the count gives Colin that familiar smirky eye he remembers from his school days.

"Approve?" The count questions and chuckles, as if in disbelief Colin would utter such. "A woman shall know her place, Mr Bridgerton. Perhaps that's why you've not married yet. First you need to learn to chasten one."

A shot is heard further away as Anthony and Benedict, along the major part of their friends follow the sound of the hunting dogs barking.

Colin brings his horse to a halt and has the count matching his maneuver.

"You're marrying one of my dearest friends, Count Lancaster," Colin speaks with firmness. "I except you to take utterly extraordinary and respectable care of Pen."

With peering eyes, the count seemingly does not react to how Colin dares telling him what to do. But rather how he refers to her, not only untitled, but with a nickname.

"You seem to know her well."

"You're marrying her, I expect the same of you."

Slowly, the count brings his horse closer to Colin's.

"If I didn't know better," he challenges. "I'd suspect you fancy her."

As if the count has declared war between them, Colin refuses to move his stern eye from him.

"Admittedly, she will always have my protection."

"That won't be necessary," the count assures and speaks the following in an almost taunting tone. "As soon as I claim her mine, you won't be needed anymore."

If not the cheerful voices of his brothers and friends would have returned by that precise moment, Colin is not sure if he may would have thrown himself onto the count.

Nothing makes him more thankful than Anthony returning with that animal Benedict apparently had missed. Anything to try to not think about his conversation with Lancaster. He is just the same as he remembers him. A complete bastard he hates for a reason. But now, Colin is the disadvantaged one, seeing how the count already has what Colin cherishes the most, in the palm of his hand.

There is a saying about a man's greatest weakness being a woman.

Perhaps this is the first time Colin truly understands it.

Because he really does comprehend, that as he inspects the count further away, witnessing how he plays with a rifle that is sent around among all friends, how he is ready to do anything to prevent him from handling Penelope.

The idea of Miss Featherington in the count's hands is enough to bring him down to his knees, literally. Frankly, the realization frightens him.

His brothers may intervene and look upon him as overly protective, but honestly, he cannot see himself not look out for her this much. This is Penelope Featherington, for God's sake. His most beloved friend. He owes her this.

He owes her the world.

When he comes back home after waving his goodbye to Anthony and Benedict, who apparently insisted on them catching up later that afternoon for supper at the house, he is just glad to finally be back home. His tryouts of not slamming any door closed and appearing like a sulking child, are not quite the best. But he does his greatest effort to keep up with a merrier mood.

Regardless, he desperately knocks on Eloise's door as soon as he can.

"Do you have this year's Whistledown?"

She is surprised to his question. "Did you just ask to read Lady Whistledown?"

"Yes, all of them that were written since I left," he makes himself clear.

Astonished, she helps him out and gathers all from her drawer before giving them to him. "I think this to be all."

"Thank you," and he shall spend all day inside the library, searching for anything revealing what has gotten into Penelope.

He likes to believe he is acting like a protective gentleman to Miss Featherington, but truthfully, he throws a longing gaze every now and then through a nearby window. As if he would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her somewhere at her house.

Of course, he is not that fortunate. He is acting like a fool, is he not? Miss Featherington is probably too happily invested in her gracious day to come visit this house. She is becoming a wife and will have far better things to do than hanging out here, with Eloise. Or him. Furthermore so if one shall keep in mind what the count expects of her. Is she even aware of it? The obligations he shall await from her?

Should he let her know?

Of course, he must. Somehow, it is his responsibility to warn her of what a horrendous trap she walks into by marrying that twerp. Yes, that is what he is. A monstrous bugger that thinks he can just lock Penelope away from her perfectly happy life here. The remembrance of what he even spoke of expectancy makes Colin go ill. How someone can aim to hold Pen in that tight grip. What life she is probably blindly walking into.

Somewhere through a fourth letter, he must have gotten himself deeply buried into the texts as he forgets all about time. It is first when his mother shows up in the doorway and knocks on it, making him aware of her presence, that he must set the last Whistledown aside for tonight.

"Supper is ready, dear," she warmly announces and gestures for him to join her.

Obediently, he does. Besides, he is starving. Can one imagine, he has been too swallowed by Lady Whistledown, searching for information about Pen, that he basically forgot all about food today? He has not eaten since breakfast. Insane, is it not?

Nevertheless he feels exhausted from all the browsing, reading and searching. Adding that early morning, he shall head straight for bed after this supper. He must look like a burned asparagus due how absolutely deadbeat he is.

Thankfully as his mother informed him earlier, this is just an intimate dinner with family.

Talk about shock as he stops by the doorway as if he has been hit by a wall of bricks.

Penelope is there.

Penelope!

Why is Penelope there?!

Sitting beside Eloise, as finely as ever. Laughing that contagiously with those glistening eyes.

Before she has detected him, he is out of there, lunging for a nearby mirror outside the dining room. Anthony entering the foyer gives his rushed leap an amused eye, their mother also suspicious of Colin's behavior.

Over his shoulder, Colin hisses. "Penelope is here?"

Amusedly intrigued, both his mother and Anthony remain on their spot, viewing how Colin adjusts his appearance in this mirror.

"Why didn't you warn me?!" He goes on.

Anthony shares a look with Violet before he questions Colin. "Warn you? How come?"

"I thought it'd just be us."

"I thought you also saw Penelope as one of us."

"Well, I do but..," when he turns around to his mother and Anthony, it is overly clear they are fighting their smiles away. As if this is something funny. "Never mind!"

He just makes sure to be last into the room and sees Anthony purposely not choosing the seat by Penelope. Neither does his mother, who habitually picks the one at the head of the table.

Well, if he is going to look out for Pen, he better go all in. Nothing wrong with sitting beside this dazzling woman tonight. This is just Pen. A woman he has known forever, pretty much. Nothing to be nervous about. He can do this and he will do everything to keep up lightly with her, more politely than yesterday evening.

He shall just sit down beside her and… why is everyone looking at him?

Demonstratively, Benedict throws a look at a nearby clock and sighs, playfully dramatically. "Will you sit down tonight, brother?"

Even Penelope is looking at him. Dear, can she not look somewhere else with those magnetic eyes?

He gulps and plops down beside her, smiles weakly to all and quickly asks a servant for a strong drink.

If her royal hotness shall sit beside him all evening, he needs any stronger beverage he can lay his hands on. Everything works just fine for the major part of this supper. No focus particularly on him. Except for those moments when he shines a bit more, joyfully going through his travels and hilariously exciting anecdotes. He tries not to think about Pen sitting just centimeters away from him and does his best into ignoring her.

Yet, whenever she so does have the word, he cannot stop eating her up with his hungry gaze. Somewhere into dessert, he even has his mind wander to way more imaginary dreams that makes him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

Her magnetic scent is pulling him closer and closer to her until he ends up having his arm resting on her backrest. Something she tenses to, most of his siblings giving him a stunned eye, yet he being gone in Penelope-World, never notices in his deep curiosity of inspecting her lips.

The nosiness of how delicious they must taste. What fortunate bastard that will try them and what he possibly can do to be lucky enough to be that someone.

Even if he somewhere deep down knows that this case is lost, as she is to be married.

Her lighter merry voice is pure music and he never wants this evening to be over with. To some point, she mentions a river and he joins her storytelling by adding from his very own experience. From a few months aback when he almost hurt himself.

To point out his credibility, he displays his hurt hand and meanwhile all women gasp, including his own mother, Penelope's is the one he only notices.

Literally he melts when her hands grab his, with such care inspecting it as if she wants to make his barely visible scar go away. Painfully as if she wants to save him from something, she meets his eyes.

And he is sold.

Her mouth is moving as she keeps saying something to him. But his vision just keeps going between her intent look and those kissable lips.

He wonders how she would look on top of the dining table. Him standing between her legs and hovering over her. Pinning her down against it while he would savor the feeling of becoming one with her.

"Colin?"

Painfully stunning Penelope speaks, successfully bringing him out of his little daydream, about her. About them, deeply involved in the act of lovemaking.

God, how much has he been drinking tonight?

"Y-yes?" He hoarsely stutters and earns her surprised quirked eyebrow.

He still cannot make the fantasy of her moaning his name with his thrusts, vanish from his wishful imagination. Dear, he wants to do her so badly it kills him.

Wait, what?!

When he fully awakens from his dream, he realizes he must pull away from her or he will end up trying to make that imagination become reality. Which makes no sense, seeing this is his friend. His friend, his friend, his friend! How many times must he rant this before he understands it?

He straightens his posture and stares at his dessert, firm to keep his focus on anything but her. In front of the prying eyes of his family, he cannot behave like this. It is bad enough Anthony will lecture him about this, acting almost all indecent with her. Naturally, he will blame the alcohol, but even he knows that is not what he grew drunk from.

It is Penelope.

Thankfully when Anthony announces his departure, he makes sure Miss Featherington shall be escorted by him. When Colin makes an attempt to open his mouth, his elder brother's decisive expression warns him to not push it.

Well, Anthony may never let Colin escort Miss Featherington home. But it was worth a try.

Before anyone has a chance of stopping him, he is still up on his feet. Stubbornly, he pulls out her chair, like a true gentleman. She gives him her hand as he assists her up alongside an appreciative look.

"Goodnight, Lady Bridgerton," Penelope politely curtsies to Violet and then to the rest. Eloise hugs her before retreating to her seat, meanwhile Colin makes sure to walk by the side of Penelope that Anthony has not picked.

It makes an awful embarrassing picture to when the three try to squeeze through the doorway.

"Would you mind?" Anthony directs Colin who glares back at him.

By the foyer, Colin stops, now finding his perfect opportune moment of privacy with her.

"I would fancy a private audience with Penelope as you call for the ride," he speaks up.

Both Anthony and Penelope turn around, equally puzzled. It remains on Penelope, but Anthony quickly forms to a knowing look, definitely seeing him through.

Whilst his look is warning Colin, he regardless respects his younger brother and eventually nods. "I shall be fast, thus you better hurry."

A year ago a conversation with her would appear totally normal. Nothing to think twice about. Everything would flow him naturally.

Strangely, it all appears different now. As if he cannot find that 'funny, merry and polite' friend of his, anymore. But all he finds is a 'stunning, seductive and desirable' woman, which he would give his everything to.

Dear, what the hell is happening to him?

With Anthony gone through the front door, he nervously chuckles as he brings up a napkin and wipes the corner of her mouth.

Her breath hitches by his sudden motion and he must excuse himself.

"Forgive me, Pen," he swallows. "Got whipped cream..," his words die as he finds it troublesome to stop wiping her mouth.

He gets to actually, lightly, touch her lips. Those he has sneaked a glance to all evening.

What would her lips taste like? Not that he would try, of course. More, hypothetically.

Closely they stand and he has probably never been this near her face. If that scent drove him to madness before, he finds this nothing but pure dangerous. Specifically with her intent gaze holding his like this.

For once, the words slip him without a possible prevention.

"You look divine."

With her frown, he catches that he must take a step back and stop touching her.

Quite taken, but somewhat incredulous to his compliment, she lingers on her response.

"Thank you."

Does she have any idea how divine she is? He tries to shake away the endless adoration he could ramble to her all night. Instead he brings himself back to the path of why he needs to slowly unfold her to have her not marry this clown of a count.

"I've known that I'd need to have a word with you, Pen."

"Really?" She looks up to him. "How do I owe the pleasure?"

First he swallows. He needs to say this to her, no matter his offense in her not telling him personally.

"A blessed congratulations upon the news of your engagement. Supposedly this is my opportunity to do so."

Again, she accepts with caution.

"Thank you."

Then he goes straight for the question that lingers in the back of his mind. Irritating him, eating him up, inside and out.

"Just out of curiosity, what made you accept his proposal?"

Almost shocked by his bold question, her mouth falls open. "Forgive me?"

"Penelope," he speaks from his heart, deeply eyeing her down. "You deserve the best. Which is anything but that Johnny-Count."

Clearly not receiving his genuine protectiveness of her in the ways he intended to, she instead apparently finds them nothing but intrusive.

"His name is John, Colin, and you must perfectly know that."

Well, Johnny-John-Johnster-moron, whatever his name is, is still a complete bastard.

"He's unworthy of you, Pen."

In her utter shock of his boldness of claiming such, she is incapable of answering him. Anthony clearing his throat by the open front door interrupt whatever was coming.

"Miss Featherington," he calls for her.

She throws a look over her shoulder and swallows before looking back to Colin.

"Goodnight, Colin," is all she says. Her mouth, tight in a straight line.

Ugh, he cannot blame her. She must hate him. He must appear like a bloody fool now. She, thinking he has gone insane.

He needs more time with her to be able to fully explain. Have her stay away from that count.

Unwillingly, he bows, not ready to call this night off until he has spoken about it all with her.

"Goodnight, Penelope."

He eyes her dearly, but she definitely returns the gaze with a disliking confusion.

Then she leaves, mumbles a 'Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,' upon passing his brother. Although she never looks over her shoulder back to Colin.

Anthony lingers on the porch and glances towards Penelope that is assisted into his carriage. He turns his attention back to Colin for just the briefest moment to declare to him.

"If you were waiting for the right moment to tell her how you feel - that just passed."


	3. The Sweet Love Story That is Older Than The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet reviews! Made my day!

No matter what, Colin shall prevent Penelope to marry that bugger. When she hears him out, lets him spill his heart out about who that little bothersome idiot is, she shall just push that count away, right? 

Everything will turn out just fine, he is sure.

A flower shop. When was the last time Colin spoke with a florist? When was the last time he was this intent on achieving the finest bouquet one can create? 

Answer is, never. 

His hand is trembling as he tries to note on the little card, ’Not from your bloody fiancé.’ 

He stops and inspects the words. Does it sound too harsh? 

He cannot quite tell, because the words he would form if he truly got to choose, would be much worse than that. 

After attempting to erase the ’bloody’ part but failing to do so, he realizes the the card only looks worse. Before he has a chance to point it out, the florist has taken it and settled it into the bouquet. 

”Was that all, Mr Bridgerton?” 

He nods once. ”Please, it’s with greatest importance this shall be given anonymously.” 

Yes, he actually is in belief she will never figure it out. 

And he has absolutely no intent on her knowing it is from him. Childishly, he is literally just out to destroy for her and Count Lancaster to make sure that man is not picking points from her. 

”No worries, Sir. Often we handle such deliveries in pure secrecy.” 

Outside he jumps into his carriage, off to this picnic in that garden the ton shall attend. There is basically just one sentence that rants in the back of his mind. How to stop Penelope from marrying the count. Clearly, he did not make a perfect move that night. Instead he rather repelled her. She must think of him as of nothing but an idiot. How he acted. Quite behaving inappropriately as if he wanted to eat her up and then be daring enough to question her choices. Almost acting as if he were jealous. 

Ha! As if HE would be jealous, though. 

Jealous. Jealous of what? 

No, he is so not jealous of anything! 

Seeing Pen is his longtime friend, he is acting perfectly appropriate of what should be expected of a manly friend. 

When he arrives to the colorful and blissful image of women looking like desserts, men proudly strolling and mamas’s ogling, Eloise throws herself on him right away. 

”Please, save me before Mother forces me to talk to a man!” 

Quickly he comes to her aid and lets her hook her arm in his. ”Of course, sister.” 

Although as she begins to lash it all out, her frustration of not wishing to be paired at all, Colin scans the groups of people. Seeking the one and only… 

”Eloise!” 

That voice… 

The voice he would distinguish if so a thousand people had crowded here on this very spot. 

Both turn around to Penelope, who graciously pulls in her long skirt to not trip as she hurries her way over to them. 

Is there a person in this same town, no island, more likely - very same world, that is this divine as this woman? 

No.

She is just… lovely. Penelope making her way over to them.

To him. 

How fortunate can a man be? Having her approaching him? 

What in the world made her this annoyingly attractive? Colin cannot quite recall. All he understands is that he is a lost case as his vision falls upon her and his ideas wander off to imaginations of the warmth of her body against his and…

”Colin,” she adds as she approaches them and knocks him out of his trance. ”May I walk with you? Sort of need a distraction from Mama.” 

May she utter his name on her lips all day, every day. More than anything, she is so very welcome to walk with him. It even makes his impulses urge to just shove his sister aside to give proper and only room for Pen. 

”Come join us,” Eloise manages to gesture for her before Colin makes reality of his ideas and has to slightly push Eloise back to demonstrate his other free arm, expectant to attach Penelope before Eloise gets to. 

So help him if Pen goes to Eloise’s side and not his. 

Seeing all he cares about, is the feeling of Penelope crooking her arm by his other side, him and Penelope completely miss Eloise’s astonished face when Pen does so. 

”Won’t she even stop this as you’re engaged to be married?” Eloise leans forward to be able to catch Penelope on Colin’s other side. 

”Apparently not!” Penelope is distressed. ”According to her, nothing is over until we’ve spoken the vows.” 

Well, for once something coming out of Lady Featherington’s mouth which Colin agrees to. 

Eloise snorts but Colin is content. If Penelope’s mother has that meaning, it could possibly mean Penelope also being more open to understand, life is not over, even though she has for now, accepted a stupid proposal from this stupid count. 

”It’s true,” he quickly confirms. ”Nothing is over until one walks down that aisle and says ’I do’.” 

As if his word would authorize this statement. 

Both Eloise and Penelope look up to him, but it is only one of them that truly burns in the corner of his eyes. He tries to keep his vision forward, act rather confident in this matter. Act casual. Yet he keeps urging to just shake Eloise off and fully turn to Penelope. Disappear into a bubble where he can fully speak to her, in private, and let her know all about how many reasons she must have to break off this engagement. 

”Isn’t that, supposedly, where people claim, ’everything starts’?” Penelope questions, intrigued by Colin’s coming answer. 

No, no, no. Or yes, maybe in normal cases. 

Perhaps everything starts when there is a happy marriage, two people deeply in love and ready for that journey. But not like this. Not his Penelope off across the world to God knows where, in the grip of Count Lancaster. And Colin out of reach. 

He really does not even want to begin analyzing why he debates this gravely about her decisions. But he likes the idea of him acting as her protector, seeing her father is gone and all other males that should look out for her interests are as well. Hardly her mother appears capable of such a grand task. Evidently, she fails doing so. Because if she did her job properly, Pen would not be off marrying herself to this bugger she now sees a future with. 

”Mama tells me I need a special attire for the wedding night, for some reason.” 

Wedding night. Penelope. 

Dear, can someone just shoot Colin right on the spot? 

Penelope dressed for her wedding night. That bastard that gets to spend a wedding night with her… Oh, the mere fantasy of this is enough to make Colin want to punch something, throw up by the idea of someone else involved with her, or just simply push Pen into a carriage and take off to Greece with her himself. 

Um, he what? Taking Penelope to Greece? Well, of course in order to protect her from these idiotic men that otherwise may try to claim her as wife. 

”Your wedding night, what happens then?” Eloise wonders. 

”Far from my knowledge,” Pen acknowledges. ”Mama told me I must simply leave it to the count and that it’s important I do as he says.” 

Alright, the throwing up-part may be near it appears. That cannot just happen. He will not allow it. 

”It’s already begun,” Eloise sighs. ”Following commands of a man.” 

Penelope sighs but it is not an unhappy sigh. Instead, she seems content with the matter. As if she shall settle for this madness. ”I guess so.” 

”You must always do as you like, Miss Featherington,” Colin speaks decisively, as if he lectures her. 

It earns both an intriguing eye from her and from Eloise, but he only truly notices Pen’s. 

”What Count Lancaster likes will be what I like.” 

”Not always, I believe,” he sets punctuation to this. 

Her previous intriguing expression turns into a frown of surprise and further interest. 

”Then what is supposed to happen on a wedding night?” Penelope dares dropping. ”If not following a man, I’m a pure amateur to the matter and if you’d enlighten me, I’d be most grateful.” 

Suddenly, Colin stops and lets go of Eloise in such harsh movement to instead swirl to abruptly stop in front of Penelope. Both him and Pen totally missing how Eloise flies steps away from them and almost crashes into a nearby tree. 

”On a wedding night, it’s the husband’s duty to make sure you’re comfortable,” Colin firmly speaks and leans down somewhat to be able to closely stare into her eyes. 

With a touch of surprise, Penelope blushes and takes a shakier breath when she tears her gaze from his. ”Oh.” 

”Not only that,” Colin adds. ”He shall make sure you experience pleasures you’ve never probably reached before.” 

Curiosity bringing the best out of her, Penelope looks back to him and meets his eyes. ”I don’t understand.” 

”A good husband shall attend to your comfort and first of all, make sure a woman feels ecstatic in his arms, confident in her exposed state of her naked body against his, loved by the ways he touches her.” 

If Eloise, standing by them, had not hissed by their inappropriateness, Colin probably never would have realized how his finger keeps caressing along Penelope’s cleavage. He is touching her bosom, by drawing his fingertip along the line of the fabrics. God, what a soft, appealing touch this is. 

He must take it away and gulp, uncomfortable with his uncontrollable actions. Yet, perhaps unforgivably, amazed at what he touched. Penelope’s mesmerizing look with her mouth seductively slightly open, he understands he is not far from suggesting to offer her all of this himself. ”Forgive me, Penelope. That is not the proper behavior of a gentleman.” 

She shakes her head, hastily. ”No… Um… it’s alright, I…” 

Both turn to Eloise, that keeps accusingly stare at Colin, meanwhile they helplessly unfairly look at her as if she is nothing but bothering them by her presence. As if she is interrupting something. Before Colin has a chance to continue charming Penelope or just explain himself, beg for her forgiveness further, Eloise has grabbed her hand and begun pulling her away. As if Colin is poisonous. 

Chance lost. 

If Benedict’s sudden joining him, following a brotherly push, ”For God’s sake, you look like a lost puppy,” Colin probably would have kept staring after the ladies forever. In particular, tried to catch Penelope’s frequent looks over her shoulder back to him, for too long. 

”I need to talk to her.” 

”How so?” 

”About that count she’s about to marry.” 

”Of course,” Benedict states with a hint of amusement. ”What has the poor bloke done wrong?” And he swallows the rest under his breath as if Colin would not hear it. ”Except for proposing to your girl.” 

He clears his throat and shoots Benedict a disapproving glare. ”For one, he’s useless and unworthy of her.” 

”Name a man that you find worthy of her.” 

That is a challenge and Benedicts knows it. Because no matter how much Colin frowns in his deep concentration of finding at least one, he growls at last. 

”That man wants to take her across the world and I find him strikingly idiotic. Speaks to me as if he wants to provoke me when it comes to her.” 

”Has it hit you that perhaps that’s exactly what he wants?” Benedict suggests. ”To me and Anthony, he’s rather polite when the matters of her are brought up. Possibly, seeing how close you and Pen have been, quite forever, could you find it hard to believe him seeing you as his enemy? He knows you know her well and that she cherishes you. What man would not find another man possessing such position a pure threat?” 

Well… that makes somewhat sense. Somewhat. 

”I still find anything coming out of that gloating man, unacceptable.” 

Really, it does not matter who tries to speak with him or of what. Even perfectly cut sandwiches, temptingly revealing tasteful ingredients, do not interest him this afternoon. Just when his mother throws him a look of worry, he distantly snatches one in order to have her not begin a possible interrogation. 

If Count Lancaster shall make a fool out of himself, giving Penelope a yellow dress, Colin shall perform as the true hero. By giving her a color of her own preference, which he so happens to know of. In the downfall of the count, he shall himself shine. 

Thereof, he is off to the modiste right after this garden gathering. 

One would be stupid to not use this occasion for his own benefit. And Colin is certainly not going to miss this chance. He is going to pick the most beautiful one of them all, send it to her and let her shower him in all appreciativeness, meanwhile that bloody count can drown somewhere else. 

He is going to be her knight in shining armor, her savior, her gentleman, her… With the door he opens into the modiste, he stops tracks. 

Penelope. 

In a wedding gown. 

Standing on a tinier podium to have that overly long white gown fall down finely around her. The modiste walks around her, a wary yet surprising proud eye of Lady Featherington standing nearby, viewing her daughter. 

There is just something that literally twists Colin inside out. A pull, or a rather, crushing sensation as if something heavy wants to drag him down to the ground. 

Nothing can knock that smile away from Pen. How genuinely she beams, glistens by delight of this sight she has of herself in a grand mirror. 

She looks… happy. Really happy. 

A smile Colin apparently aims to take away from her. 

How can he? How dare he? 

The simple view of her grinning this genuinely, even if so unbeknownst to the matter, has Colin’s mouth forming into a foolish smile. Her happiness, completely contagious to him. 

What in the world is he about to do? Slam this all down by trying to bull fight this count? What if his brother is right. This count just seeing him as an enemy, of course so on with the need of shouldering him for Colin knowing Pen for longer, deeper and in a friendlier manner than this count. 

Is he really going to remove that glorious smile of hers away, those beaming eyes, just because he wants to be her hero for the tiny moment? And because he cannot handle the count taking her away from him. Just because he wants to show off, put this count to place and somehow appear better in Pen’s eyes. What if Colin is all wrong with that count? Benedict is usually right about everything. And would Colin blame that count really? Colin does know Pen well. To rile him up, settle as to whom Pen shall belong to, evidently has brought that count to act that badly towards him. 

If Pen is happy… then should not Colin be too? 

Regretting coming to the modiste to begin with, he gets his change of hearts and decides to leave before anybody notices him. 

Which is too late as it is, with Penelope catching his hidden figure somewhere in the reflection of the mirror. She spins around as if she could not have done it fast enough. ”Colin.” 

Fully facing him, he wants to smack this infernal count down. Again. He is so damned unworthy of this beautiful woman. He is so fortunate to marry her. Not even Colin deserves her. This stunning, shimmering miss, is way out of Colin’s league. How is it possible a woman can be this enticing? Looking like the most magnetic magic he has ever seen? 

Wryly, he tries to smile but his lips must be trembling. 

”Pen.” 

God, he is pathetic. Nervous and all. She must think of him as of nothing but a fool. 

”Miss Featherington,” the modiste, somewhat trapped in the fabrics of this wedding dress, tries to locate herself and adjust the measurements. ”Would you mind turning back, please?” 

Hesitatingly, Penelope gives him an apologetic look as she turns back around. 

The modiste directs him. 

”In a moment, if you please, Mr Bridgerton.” 

”Of course,” he obeys. ”I’ll wait here.” 

A graver debate torns him. Should he really go through with this? All he wants is to tear Pen away from the count. But how kind would that really be of him? Would such a task really help her, or just prevent her from happiness? That look upon her face, happiness, and his urge of consequence taking it away, makes him feel awful. 

The modiste goes on putting needles into the white fabrics. ”Where were we?” She tries to catch on to their previous conversation. ”Ah, the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers was sent to you.” 

Lady Featherington who comfortably almost leans against against a pillar stands straight by surprise. ”A secret admirer?” 

”Suppose it is,” the modiste is certain. ”There’s always a secret admirer when a woman marries.”

Penelope answers distantly whilst trying to keep her posture in front of the mirror. ”I wouldn’t know.” 

”Fancy that,” the modiste comments and Penelope takes a deep breath.

”Fancy that.” 

The modiste is down, crouching on the ground to measure with pinning the last needles. ”Typical of men to take a note of a woman just as she’s about to get married and for all future be off the market.” 

Is that a description of Colin? No matter that the modiste probably has no idea that she speaks of him.  
Suddenly, he feels how Pen’s eyes burn on him in the reflection of the mirror, unnoticed by all else but the two of them. 

”Isn’t it..,” she mumbles as she agrees. 

No, he cannot do this to her. Rip her happiness apart by ordering her the finest of gowns that the count shall fail doing. So on, even astonishing himself to the core, when the modiste has her focus on him, Penelope discussing wedding dress details with her mother, he speaks in a low tone. 

”I heard the count was here to gift Miss Featherington a yellow dress.” 

The modiste seems amused by him. ”So it seems. What purpose brings it you here?” 

That woman has a way to reveal by her smug face of her knowing it all, yet she dutifully acts unaware of what goes on around her. For that, Colin is thankful. 

”You know, probably as much as I do, that she hates that color. Furthermore, I’m ready to pay whatever the cost to get that color changed.” 

”Impressive, Mr Bridgerton,” the modiste speaks. ”The miss shall receive two dresses, upon which you give her the favorable one.” 

”Not quite,” Colin shakes his head. Here it comes, his chance of being her hero yet ends up doing the only thing he finds right. ”I want you to only give her that dress, not the yellow one, and sign it to be from the count. She shall never know it was sent from me but believe it is from her fiancé.” 

And that is when he somewhere deep down, understands, that her happiness is far more important for him than his own victory of crushing the count. 

Which rather hits him as if he has been shot. 

But fearing the reasons why and never a wish to even begin thinking of them, he leaves right after with a refusal to look over his shoulder, back to the happy woman he will never be worthy to marry.


	4. The Simple Truth About The Love She Brings To Me

The night Colin Bridgerton would get the most outrageous idea that ever crossed his mind. Wicked, impure and totally unacceptably done of a true reputable man. And it is all because of her. 

After Colin’s readjustment for a hundredth time, earlier that evening, his mother’s impatience runs out. 

”Please, Colin-dear, you do look handsome.” 

He is reflecting himself in the foyer.

It probably does not matter how many times he tries to catch one last glimpse in the mirror, he shall neither make anything for the better nor for worse. It is what it is and he eventually gives up his attempt of an impossible utter perfection, to instead join his family down into a carriage. 

”A week ago you hardly even cared for your appearance,” his adoring mother continues to comment, however he quickly decides not to dwell on that statement. It is for his very own safety. 

For a delusional belief, he actually thought he would be put together this night. That he alike honorable men, shall act and behave proper among the graceful women on the dance floor. Smoothly, he shall mingle, move about the endless grandiose rooms with a confidently pleased expression. Perhaps charm a few and in between, simply enjoy a festive night in company of his brothers. Moreover, he shall have a proper word with Penelope, kindly ask for her forgiveness due his previous forwardness. Suitably guide her to the right path of directions and knock some sense into her. 

Yes, pretty much.

What he will not do, is to drool over her like he has done lately. Let her knock him off his very own path and somehow, infuriatingly, wrap him around her finger. 

What could honestly go wrong with this most stupendous plan of his? 

For starters he barely enters the grand gates into this lightened garden before he understands he must look like a starving kitten. Anthony does not even finish greeting them, before he must elbow Colin.

”So help me God, brother, you’ll scare her away. Are you going to eat her up?” 

As if popping his bubble, Colin quite throws him a glare, in belief he can pull this off the nonchalant way. ”Who?”

At first it looks like Anthony’s mouth forms a ’P’, but he pauses. Clearly finding it funnier to annoy his younger brother, he spills. 

”The future countess.” 

Oh, he would only dare! 

Fuming under his breath, Colin must see red when he scans the guests.

“She’s not going to ruin her life like that!” 

“In a month she’s a countess.”

Partly surrendering to this hopeless chase, Colin sighs. 

”I’m running out of time.” 

”Come again?” Anthony sinks a shot of liquor. ”More than a decade isn’t enough?” 

His jaw clenches further. As if he needs a reminder.

Penelope Featherington could probably have been standing on the moon or across the world, Colin Bridgerton would have seen her anyway. There is no place for her to hide from him. No matter where she so happens to be. 

Standing across the room, well-hidden and protected, one would think, behind the crowd of dancing people. Still lady-like, she is comfortably leaning by a column as she eats grapes. It looks way more seductive than she probably can comprehend. 

There could literally have been a thousand people here between them - nothing would have hindered him. Truly, there is nothing in the world that could have made him not detect her. 

Like an invisible force, he does not control his steps that push him towards her. 

Somehow, Colin must have clumsily followed his need of her and made this attempt of reaching her. A person has got to have been knocked into, as he distantly feels an angrier push to his side. Only to the following moment stumble into a woman, or servant, he has no idea, but it nevertheless brings upset voices and accusative outcries to him. 

Only one thing remains - his sold gaze to her. As if he so loses the sight of her, she will be gone. 

For a normal sized chamber, tonight it feels particularly grand. Too many people, too crowded and way too far of a distance. The obstacles are everywhere, knocking into Colin in all the ways. Yet they go past him as if he never really noticed them in the first place. 

Somewhere behind him, Anthony and Benedict must be coughing on their drinks but his determination is way too set on Miss Featherington to take a note of it. 

Only thing that has his focus, his fullest attention, totally captured, is the one woman standing there, unbeknownst of the man she literally has in the palm of her hand. Completely mesmerized by her, he misses his brothers’s anxious sighs by his clumsiness in getting himself over to her. Even if he, in his mind, has done everything as smoothly as he possible could have.

If something magnetic had stung in him before by the mere sight of her, she brings it all to a new level. By now with her piercing eyes staring right into his depths, she surely kicks him harder into whatever trance she obviously had set him into in the first place. Bloody hell she is marvelous.

Hence the purest look still remains by the eye of the other one. Colin has met hundreds, or why not, thousands of women. Not can he justify why she of all is the sole one to glue his most seeking gaze to her like this.

As if he is helplessly pupping after her. 

Once he stands in front of her, proudly and nervously, her amused look must speak of his clothes getting stained from drinks people have carried, that he unwillingly has knocked into. Yet he never has his eyes fall to investigate what she looks at. Because when her gaze moves back up to his eyes, she is invisibly pulling him to finish the last distance between them. 

Cautiously, she curtsies and he bows. 

”Good evening, Pen,” his voice is darker than usual. Dry mouth and he clears his throat as if it shall assist his case. Desperateness for her attention is something he tries to neglect though. Because he is beyond needy for her.

She blushes and fights her smile back, clearly finding him funny. ”Good evening, Colin.” 

He cannot quite pinpoint what in the world is happening to him, but he does understand that she is growing into pure danger. Making him behave like a forlorn fool. He wants her to wear that smile and in particular when it is because of him. Her mere presence is causing him to trip over, unable to control himself and it is not anything he finds pleasing. 

Deeply he eyes her and swallows as if that will save him from a painfully reminder that this is not his fiancée. This is not the woman that will marry him. 

God, that bastard is such a fortunate bloody clunk to have her. Jealous of this or not, Colin truly means every word in that sentence. 

Her capturing stare let alone causes Colin’s toes to curl and with his vision daring to glance down to her cleavage, he wants to sigh in want of getting a chance to yet again feel the softness of it. He feels weak in her presence. As if she can command him anything and he would fall pray for it. 

Either or, as far as one can tell, she does not notify his hungriness. Her vision is amusedly going back and forth between his stains and his pining eyes. 

”Why are you smiling?” He wonders, loving the sight of her beaming like this. 

In her giddy mood, she gives a hint of a shrug as if she tries to fight her sweet smile away. ”Why are you?” 

He offers his arm and she takes a deep breath, for a start studying it to soon return to hold his most intent eye. 

”Forgive me, I don’t know if I..,” she hesitates. She actually hesitates? ”I can’t… Colin I…” 

She is so hesitant he would be hurt by it. But something in her eyes is almost painful, as if she wishes to tell him something. 

Before he even has the chance of stopping himself from letting out the nicknaming madness, it is too late. 

”Dance with me, darling.” 

Her breath hitches and with a step back, it is as if she winces from his presence. In disbelief he just called her that. 

Darling. 

He so did. And it felt all natural. As if Penelope Featherington is his darling.

”I wish I could just dance with you and..,” she frowns again, as if she tries to form her words correctly. Something bothering her with the matter. 

Almost rudely, Colin snatches her wrist to check her book. So help him if she shall use this for an excuse. With her gasp, he is blind to the fact she did so because of his touch more than his improper gesture. 

This is so inappropriately done of him, he has no idea even where to begin a suitable apology. But he does not have to, because she is with a nod gesturing him to take her to the dance floor. 

”It isn’t filled,” she explains. 

He stops his browsing of the book, already working to erase the sight of that infernal Count Lancaster’s name written all over the past pages. 

”So you accept?”

Taking him off guard, she speaks as if she is challenging him. ”Do I have a choice?” 

Not really. 

He cannot stop eying her down. Rarely she spoke to him in any other way but the most polite one. It is surprising to find her even hint to him as if she actually would know how she is the one with the upper hand. 

It is insane how attractive a woman can be. 

Probably he squeezes her hand a bit tighter than he should. A frightened idea that if he lets go, she will disappear. 

He wants to enjoy every single second with her, dancing with him. Heavenly perfumed scent of hers that makes him want to hug her tight against him, lean down into the crook of her neck and savor all of her.

If only they had been alone. 

All he can imagine as he has her against him like this, is an idea of pushing her up against a column and devour her. 

Colin, stop. 

Penelope is… Penelope. 

If she ever found out about his unmovable desires, she would probably never want to see him again. 

But truth is, he cannot take his eyes off her. ”Where’s your fiancé tonight, if I may?”

Naturally, he has noticed the absence of Prince Charming that has stolen his friend from him. Warily, she gives him a cautious eye as if she is uncertain how to respond to him. Obviously due his previous indications of disliking this Mister Count. 

The fact that he is ecstatic over him not being here is something he keeps to himself. But his glimmering look must reveal enough of his pleased state of mind. Because Penelope gives him a telling eye, as if she speaks without really saying a word. And lets him know, that he probably could not look any happier. 

Just before they have to break apart and temporarily exchange partner, she answers him. ”Something about a matter with one of the estates up in the north. He will be back in time for the wedding.” 

Who has blessed Colin? What goodness has he done to deserve this? 

”Rub that smirk away!” Anthony hisses warningly to Colin as he passes his back, in his very own dancing with his wife.

Astonished that his brother was even there to begin with, Anthony continues further in his declaration. ”You are too obvious.” 

Too obvious? Obvious of WHAT? That he will enjoy not having Mister Moron in town for a while? Then so be it! 

He reflects Anthony’s glare back before returning to his precious Penelope and he probably brings her closer to his body than what would be formally acceptable. For now, he completely ignores his older brother’s red face that screams of disapproval. 

Meanwhile this can be described as too close, he still yearns to gently shove her even further closer to him. Awfully so, he quite cannot refrain from the brutal truth that he seemingly cannot get enough of her. With her in his arms like this, there is literally only her existing in this world. Worse, he can feel the physical effect she has on him. Which is a throbbingly needy reminder. A heavy urge for her. 

”He’s that certain he can leave you that long?” 

Oh, no. That did not come out in the ways he wanted it to. Whilst he meant this as a way of complimenting her, in the ways she interprets this, she is definitely offended. That look she gives him is of baffled pain. 

”Excuse me?”  
Damnit. 

No, no, no! He did not mean this to sound like a man needing to have her in a leash. Not at all! He meant that she is too valuable to just let go off, even so for a second! If he himself had been that fortunate idiotic count, he would never have wanted to part from her that long. Ever. 

For a man known as being amazing with his words, smooth and almost criminally charming, he suddenly finds himself immensely deserving of that idiotic title himself.

Before he has a chance to try to explain himself, the dance is over and she rigidly smiles. An icy aura that speaks of her wanting to just run off already. Which she also does as soon as she gets the chance to. 

”Pen!” He hisses and discreetly lunges after her. 

Only Anthony and Benedict wriggle themselves out of their wives' grips in the crowded room, trying their best to break free and hunt Colin down before he goes too far. 

Room after room, Colin curses underneath his breath that she has got to be that short. Thankfully, he is sufficiently tall to be able to detect her escaping a room just in time before he would lose her. 

First down a darker hallway, he dares to hurry his steps enough to almost run. If he had not been drinking that last glass of champagne or actually not been gone in World Penelope this gravely, he would have seen the inappropriateness in being alone in a hallway with a lady. 

But for now, he really cannot think clearly when she is around. 

”Pen!” He yanks her around and she is not happy to see him. 

”Stop following me, Colin.” 

”That did not..,” he tries to form a proper sentence in his mind. Explaining himself to her, without letting her know all about his fantasies of what he actually wants to indulge in. Her. ”Penelope, please, that came out all wrong.” 

”Why do you hate Count Lancaster this much?” She demands to know. ”He’s a good man and he’s the first man that really wants to marry me. Why do I get the impression of you, from the one who is supposed to be my supportive friend, appearing as if almost trying to destroy my life?” 

”Certainly not!” He refuses. ”If anything, I’m looking out for you.” 

”Really?” She chuckles, but it is not by amusement. She looks at him as is she is beyond frustrated with him. ”Then stop! You’re ruining my life.” 

Ouch. 

But still, how so? ”Ruining your life?” 

Taken off guard, she blushes as if she said something she was not supposed to. Quickly returning to accuse him, she is back to fire off at him.

”Stop insulting my fiancé, would you?” She requires. ”Please.” 

He so wishes he could. But the mere thought of her and the count makes him go mad. 

”I’m afraid, that he’s not precisely as the image you have of him.” 

In irritation, she sucks in her breath. If he would have been blessed to not know she probably hates him right now, he would say she is utterly… cute, when she is this angry. 

”I know him better than you think,” she bursts out. Deep frustration running in her blood. ”We know each other perfectly well!” 

At this, Colin chuckles, as if this is something funny. ”You’ve known him for a month. Now what’s that, five minutes?” 

Yes, she is about to lose it. So is he. 

”I’ve known you this past decade, even longer. And look how little I knew of you. In belief you’d be delighted I’d marry. Instead you do nothing but insult my engagement.” 

”I just want you to be happy!” 

”Having a husband shall make me happy!” 

”Nonsense!” 

She looks incredulously at him, definitely finding it difficult to figure him out. This is really a side of him he has never shown her. Frankly, he has not even shown it to himself before either. And this frustrated Penelope, boiling by annoyance, is definitely a new side of her that he never has seen before. If she only would not look so damn hot when she is this angry.

”From where do you suggest I, as a woman, shall gain happiness then?” She again challenges. 

”Well,” and Colin makes the mistake of accidentally quoting himself. ”Not from your bloody fiancé!”

Her breath hitches as he no longer can stand it. His face mere centimeters from hers. A stare of depth holding hers caught to his. His hands tangled in the fabrics of her dress as he has her in his hold. 

So close to those luscious lips he yearns to kiss. God, he wants to kiss her, so badly. 

With his improper maneuver, screaming of his longing for her, he sort of expects her to reveal her disapproval of him. 

Instead, she keeps breathing heavily, against his lips as if she waits for him to just lean down the final part to claim hers. 

With her piercing eyes, even he, somewhere in the back of his mind, understands that he stands merciless under her held gaze. His knees feel weak and his pants are uncomfortably tight. Everything in his inner core screams for her intimacy. 

Her heavy eyelids and expectant lips are practically begging him to just devour her already. 

Deciding to once and for all kiss her, he brings his hand to the back of her head as he leans down, when she suddenly lets out. 

”You sent the flowers.” 

She remembered the card. 

Immediately, he freezes and as result his grip looses enough for her to take a step away from him. 

Oh, no. This is not quite the road he wanted to go down though. Focus is supposed to be on HER and why she should break off this engagement. Not to corner him.

With her deep breathing, her whole chest is heavily moving. It looks as if her bosom will pop out of her cleavage and he finds the sight explosively irresistible. 

Bloody hell, he wants her so much. 

It takes him a moment to register what happens. 

”Please, answer me,” she is firm in her tone. 

If any other woman had been demanding an explanation from him, even so wanting to discuss romantic drama, he would charmingly grin and smooth talk his way out of it. 

So why in the world is everything extremely difficult when it comes to Penelope? The only woman that seemingly makes him speechless. 

God, this woman is nothing but pure danger for him. What is he now supposed to say? 

Deciding to still try the stupid road, in hope she will not see him through, he tries to sooth this down. 

”Me, sending you flowers?” His attempt to act causal. ”Why would you think that?” 

Carefully, she approaches him with a step as if she is intimidating him. He actually IS intimidated by her. 

”Because only you know which ones are my favorites.” 

Oh, damn. 

The silence that lays between them is all that is needed to catch him in this. He is so caught. With everything he has, he tries to come up with something to explain this. 

”Why would you do that?” She inquires. ”Why?” 

”Um..,” he begins to stammer. 

”What, Colin?” She demands, fed up with him. 

Dear, if he had any idea this is how forward she is, he would have been way more careful in his actions. 

Or no, he really would not, still. Because his mind is nevertheless too foggy when it comes to her. He is unreasonable and totally not behaving like himself. To some extent, he likes to point out that he did not either expect her to be this sweetly angry. 

”For a decade, you’ve made it perfectly clear I’m not destined to be seen eligible in the eyes of someone like you.” 

It literally feels as if she just punched him. 

”Penelope, that’s not true.” 

”And now once I finally have a suitor,” she is beyond angry. ”You try to destroy this for me by now all of a sudden, pretend there’s a false suitor out there to scare off my fiancé.” 

Well that is so far from the truth. 

”Can’t I also send you flowers?” He decides to challenge her back. ”Or is everything forbidden now just because you’re engaged?” 

She pulls in her breath in surprise. ”Just,” she almost spits, completely taken by inner irritation. ”Because I’m engaged?” 

Alright, there is not just a ’just’. She may be entitled to think of him as cheeky for laying it out it like this. 

”Certainly not!” She snaps, clearly deciding to corner him. ”But it’s not alike your typical behavior, is it, Mister Colin Bridgerton?”

Having enough of this stupidity between them, Colin takes another step towards her, successfully so in her not matching it with a backing one. 

”All misunderstandings aside,” his tone is severe. ”I need to tell you something.” 

For a hundredth time tonight, entranced in the stare of her eye, he feels how his inner twists. The deep yearn for her, the frustration of her not understanding him. Him making a fool out of himself, causing her to despise him. His longing for her physical attributes, her inner, her intimacy, her lips, her laughter, even her anger. 

Her everything. 

He wants all of her. 

”Benedict, you shall escort Miss Featherington back to the ballroom and I shall like to have a word with our brother.” 

No! Not now! 

Anthony and Benedict have joined them and successfully broken whatever moment he had with Penelope. 

There are so many things he needs to say to her. Words that cannot wait. He cannot afford losing time like this. This moment shall turn out to however not be that occasion. With a curtsy and his habitant bow, they exchange a politer gesture than they have done all evening. And before he has a chance to fix it all, she has left with Benedict. 

”What in the world, Colin, has gotten into your head lately?” 

Well, someone tell him that! 

He folds his arms. ”Admittedly this was improperly done of me, but someone has got to look out for her.” 

Anthony pushes a glass of champagne into his chest, which he accepts. ”You’re not doing it in the right ways.” 

”It would be in the right ways, if only my words would’ve come out as they should.” 

”God, brother,” Anthony swallows his chuckle. ”You are the one among us that is good with words.” 

”Well,” Colin snaps and gestures to the direction Penelope disappeared into. ”Why don’t you tell her that.” 

Flickering his vision from the corner from where she went and back to Colin, Anthony suddenly inquires. 

”You really sent her flowers?”

When Colin only makes a hint of a nod, Anthony sinks his own glass of champagne. ”Dear… You’re in love with her.” 

Colin folds his arms tighter and adds a clenched jaw. ”Certainly not.” 

Why is everyone acting insane? Why is everyone misinterpreting him this gravely? It does not matter what he says or do nowadays, it will regardless be interpreted in the wrong way. 

”Oh, you are,” Anthony states as if this is a fact. ”And you’re in it deep.” 

Oh, for the love of God. 

Colin snorts. “In love? Hardly! I just look out for her, doing what’s required of me.” 

This earns him a brotherly, yet harsh enough to emphasize the meaning, tap on his shoulder ”And what precisely is that?” Anthony wonders. ”Perhaps, marrying her yourself?” 

Having enough of tonight, Colin instantly decides to call this night off. Apparently he is just doing more damage than good. 

Thinking he is out of trouble, ready for a long night’s sleep and new beginning by tomorrow’s morning, he realizes his ride home is further wrenching his inner. Her name is engraved in his mind, ranting over and over again. The precise moment of when they were about to kiss. 

Her gaze had practically begged him and if he had not been such a fool and revealed himself, he would probably stand there kissing her right now. She had almost looked like she wanted him to kiss her. If he dares letting himself think that. 

In frustration, he runs his hand through his hair so many times, his hair totally loses its style. 

What the hell is happening with him? Suddenly everything in his life is about her. Her occupying his every thought, storming into his mind like the most lovely breeze that refuses to leave. She is there to stay and no matter how much he tries to refocus, all there is, is her. 

But it first when he is at home, that he gets the most outrageous idea he has ever gotten, and soon finds himself end up standing down Penelope’s window. Outside her family’s home.  


Dear, is it now that he officially has gone mad? 

But he must talk to her. Apologize for his behavior and more importantly, explain himself. The fact that she thinks he is out to destroy her life is not only upsetting, but immensely offensive. As if he, would ever want her to as much as scratch her fingertip. If anything, he wants her the greatest happiness there is. But he has been clumsy lately and unsuccessfully he makes everything worse. If he sincerely apologizes, perhaps she shall forgive him. And for once, really listen to him. 

Carefully he moves to a door that he has understood shall be closer to her chamber, according to what he has heard of his sister. But just as he is about to knock, he brings himself to a pause. 

What if someone else wakes up? At this hour, this is hardly a good idea. 

Bewildered in how to catch her attention, he backs a few steps while keeping his stare up to her window. With another splendid idea crossing his mind, he picks up a few tinier gravel stones, ready to throw them to her window. Again, he pauses and lets them drop from his grasp to fall back to the ground. 

Her window is slightly open, probably to get some night’s air into it. Perhaps he can call for her? 

What if she does not want to see him? Likely, she shall not be happy to see him there, seeing how they parted tonight. He can picture her standing by her window, gazing down to him and pulling her curtains across it to block the view of him. 

With another backing step, he knocks into a tree. And that is when he somewhere in his rational thinking, understands that everything he has learned of what being proper and improper, will be thrown out the window. This is far from appropriately done of a gentleman. Yet something he will be unable to stop. 

In his stained clothing, he adds further holes as he climbs up this tree and tumbles right into this miss’s private bedroom.


	5. Where Do I Start?

Miss Featherington lets out a yelp and adding to the dramatic reaction, she throws herself back against a wall. There are papers in her hands, flying about the room in her abrupt jolt. Completely taken by surprise of him intruding her bedroom, she pants. 

It takes her a moment to not only grasp the situation, but also to understand that it is his familiar face that has invaded her room at this hour. 

While he now lays heavily on the ground, after a rumbling thud of a noise as he landed, he still manages to glimpse her across the room. 

Temptress of a woman, yes she is. That heavy breathing as she is against the wall. He can only imagine him pinning her against it. In a nightgown dress, cleavage way further down than he is used to see her in, she is pushing his inner to implode by want. Her lips parted as she breathes, vision falling down upon him on the ground and a look of unbeknownst seduction. All he wants is to stand up and take firm steps over to her. 

”Colin?” She eventually lets out when she registers what happens. However it is first when he weakly smiles and tries to stand that he at first thinks she shall jump for his aid. Assist him up to his legs and ask if he is alright. 

Perhaps if he shall be lucky, he can just smoothly murmur his apology against her soft lips. 

Disappointingly, she instead throws herself to the floor as if there is nothing more important than feverishly trying to gather the outspread paperwork.

”Writings. Had no idea you had such of a hobby.” 

More desperate than ever, she quite snatches a paper from his hand before he reaches to read it. Offended, he seeks her worried eyes that appear way more anxious over the fact he almost managed to read it, than him as a male, actually invading her private bedroom at this hour. 

”What in the world are you doing here?” 

Ah, there her wondering tone is. The one he expected. 

Quickly and not too smoothly, she pushes all of her papers inside a drawer by her desk. Quite lunging herself on it as if this would be the most exquisite secret there is. A wary eye over her shoulder back to him, as if to make sure he shall not try to see whatever she hides. 

Interesting in whatever she has there, his nosiness brings him to answer with another question. ”What is that you’ve got there?” 

With the back of her hand wiping pretend-sweat from her forehead, she at last lets out a sigh. As if she managed a mission. A secretive operation of keeping those papers hidden from him. Apparently, he is not supposed to find out about their content. Which peeks his interest only further. 

What is written on those papers? 

As if the reality now fully hits her, she tremblingly turns to him. An indication of nervousness in her, which makes him feel the hit of heavy guilt for causing her this distress. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he does understand the graveness in this disgraceful gesture of his. Yet, with her in front of him like this, he does also understand that there is nothing in the world that could have prevented him from this. From seeing her. 

Carefully, she takes in the sight of him being present.

”You broke yourself into my room,” she speaks nervously, tries a nervous smile but rather avoids his intense stare. She swallows. ”My bedroom.” 

She is breathing as if she has run through all of London in a hurry, but he is certain it is not only his sudden welcoming that brought her that reaction. Clearly, she was afraid of him detecting her written pages. Whatever secrecy there could be of her personal diary. 

”I shouldn’t have done this,” he begins. ”And admittedly, there is no reason to justify my actions. However, I must have a word with you, preferably in privacy. This cannot be more private, can it?” 

Just as he finishes his sentence, he feels a sting in his hand and moves his attention to the shallow scars there. 

Deeply concerned, she truly looks worried for him. As if she more than anything cares for his well-being. ”Are you well?” 

He is more than well. He is ecstatic. 

She approaches him to grab his hand in hers, inspecting all almost non-existent scars from climbing the tree. 

He would lie if he described her soft touch as of nothing but entirely enticing. All over again, he is basically poisoned by her lovely scent. He is heavily intoxicated by it, the loveliness of it. A scent he could drown in without her ever knowing it. It is unfair how she is able to do this to him without intending to. As if she possesses a power over him that he is thankful she is unaware of. If she so were, so help God he would be standing at her mercy. He already does, like a bewildered puppy, enjoying her any touch she gives him. Any hint of attention and he is sold. 

The fact that she wears a nightgown is another thing he quite did not think through as he invaded her room. That she most likely would not be as prudently dressed up as she is out in public. Which is not shocking at all, seeing he forced himself into her privacy of her very bedroom. At night. How bad is he? This excuse of a gown makes him want to remove it and discover her body underneath. If only his hardon did not throb this much. 

When it comes to her, he probably has to surrender to the fact that he is totally uncontrollable. 

Worse is how he cannot regret this at all and even pretend as for a moment that he does, which perhaps a true reputable man would. More is visible of her devious bosom that threatens the last pinch of gentleness he has left in him. She is murmuring her worries of him hurting himself, or risks of doing so in his mischief, but she is at least not telling him off, scolding him or so. And that he is thankful for. 

Something is particularly intimate about this all. Standing inside her bedroom and having her in a nightgown by his side, doting for him. Like he never wants her touchings to end. May they never end. 

When she looks up to him, he understands she has probably asked a question. Whilst he has been too gone taking in her hot features he for once has a deliberately great view of. He opens his mouth, ready to yet again ask for forgiveness of not grasping a word of what she has said, when the sound of someone trying to get inside her room breaks them apart. 

The handle is pulled and due it being locked, a banging sound follows. 

”Penelope!” 

It is her mother. 

Horrified, Penelope turns to Colin and begins to usher him. ”Under the bed,” and then she throws over her shoulder, towards the closed door. ”A moment, Mama!” 

Quickly, she throws herself to her window and pushes it close. An attempt of erasing all traces of Colin’s doing, when she finds him still standing there in the middle of her room, almost dumbfounded. 

”Open this door!” Her mother shouts and continues to forcefully knock the door.

Distressed, now Penelope gives him a gesturing shove and he awakens from staring her dangerously beautiful body down. He is way too big to fit under her bed but with her warning eyes shooting to kill him, he dives under it. 

”PENELOPE! Open this door right at once!” 

As he tries to move beneath her bed, the top of his head knocks into it from beneath. He lets out a groan but bites his tongue to not let the sound be too loud. Curiously, he manages a tiny glimpse of feet as he sees Penelope opening the door with her mother on the other side, the latter quickly storming inside. 

Instantly, mother is upset. ”What took you so long?!” 

She makes a spin as if she is scanning the room. 

Penelope’s stutters do not make this better. ”I-I was r-reading and…”

”You and your books,” her mother sighs in vain as if her daughter is a hopeless case. ”A lady must give up such to be a perfect wife and I shall expect the count to assume you would as well.” 

”Mama, please.” 

Suddenly her mother lets out a laughter. ”Oh, this was not too well thought out of me, yet I was suspicious of the loud noise.” 

”Oh?” 

”For the tiniest moment I almost got the absurd thought you’d sneak a possible suitor in here.” 

He cannot see Penelope, but he can literally hear her swallowing. ”How absurd, indeed.” 

”Of course.” Just as he thinks everything is clear, he sees Penelope’s mother’s feet stop by the doorway. ”By the way, what was that noise?” 

If he is this nervous under her bed, he can only imagine what goes on within Penelope. If her mother finds him there, he is sure Penelope will face consequences he does not want to know of. Frankly, he would never forgive himself if she did find him there and have Penelope taking the hit for it. 

This is all his fault. 

Everything. 

Perhaps she is right. He is ruining her life. She asked him to stop and what does he do if not just destroying her life further? He is such an idiot.

He is pathetic. 

”The book took me with such surprise I fell from bed,” she makes a grand work of not giving away her nervous stammering too much. 

”Unacceptable, Penelope!” Her mother scolds her. ”Please, stop disturbing me at this hour.” Before Mrs Featherington is gone, the mother throws one last remark. ”And for God’s sake, don’t cry out like that,” and the rest she hopelessly mutters, but is loud enough to have the both of them hear her. ”When will you ever learn to behave like a lady.” 

”Goodnight, Mama.” 

Thankfully, Penelope gets to close the door and he hears her locking it. Guilt washing like a striking wave inside of him. That he caused her this unnecessary scolding by his desperateness for Penelope. How selfish is he not? She does not deserve that rubbish her mother threw her. 

Unsteadily, he crawls out of there. When Penelope comes to assist him back up on his legs, he tries not to sink too much into the delightfulness of her touch. 

He came here to talk to her, and that she shall do. Talk. Not try to dig himself deeper into ruining her. But oh dear, as he meets her wondering gaze, he must force himself to think of other things than the striking urge of tasting her tempting lips. As this fantastic future looks like right now, those kissable lips shall not be for his disposal but for another mister. 

”This isn’t properly done of me,” he swallows but keeps glancing to the transparency of her nightgown. If his pants were tight to begin with, they are beginning to cause pain. ”But are you certain, that this is the man you shall spend the rest of your life with?”

Carefully she inspects him. For a moment she almost looks confused as if she is unsure of whom he speaks of. 

”Personally, I happen to be quite familiar with him. When you and I’ve known each other for a lifetime, I find it irresistible to just not stand against it,” he goes on. 

Her confusion disappears as she now seemingly understands who he speaks about. Which is a matter that instead confuses him. Who in hell did she think he meant? Is there someone else out there that also courts her? How many men is he supposed to take down? 

”Count Lancaster is polite,” Penelope explains. Colin wants to snort at this but refrains from it. ”A good friend, I believe.” 

”A friend,” Colin repeats. ”I’m a friend. Not do you throw yourself at my feet, do you?” 

Ugh, he really does sound like a jealous schoolboy, hurt by his crush. 

Penelope looks as if she is about to say something. Can she please stop licking her lips when she is considering whatever she so does, like this? Does she have any idea how this tests him to the bottom of him core? Licking her lips… Please, can she harm him any further? He is literally feeling shaky by the harsh longing to feel those lips against his. 

When she has decided what to say, she has gone down the road to neglect his comment. 

”He’s funny. Quite charmingly hilarious, if I may.” 

Charmingly hilarious? How delusional is she? 

”Pen, is he’s funny - you laugh at his jokes. You don’t let him cuff you to marriage.” 

His opinion of this engagement cannot be more apparent than this. And she is surprised to his behavior. Yet he is grateful she is not shoving him out that window as it is. 

”He knows me perfectly well, you shall ought to know,” she informs him matter of factly. ”For one, he gifted me a gown in my favorite color. Disposing just how he cares for me and I shall be obliged to appreciative this act of affection.” 

He bites his tongue but truly has to fight back his frustration.

”Why do you even have a favorable color to begin with, when you are divine in them all?” 

If he ever would take her breath away, this is quite that very moment. 

She is shocked by his bluntness. His obscene boldness that even he quite cannot explain.

He approaches her further. ”You can’t marry him, Pen. You just can’t.” 

Equally challengingly, she eyes him back, gathers strength to speak to him when she so does. ”I can’t believe you saying this.” 

”I find it my duty to.” 

”No,” Penelope shakes her head as if she does not believe he is saying this to her. ”There was a time, I must admit, when I would’ve done anything to have you sneak into my room.” 

What is she implying? 

”You used to have a crush on me?” 

”Oh, it was more.” 

What did she just say? 

Penelope Featherington saying she used to have a crush - no more, than a crush on him? 

How can this be? How can such a thing have passed him unnoticed? 

Penelope Featherington crushing on him.

He wants to rant that statement. That he, of all men out there, has been the fortunate chosen one to carry her valuable heart. That she has looked upon him with those eyes that he now so yearns for. 

It feels as if a bucket of water has been poured above his head. A strike within him that twists him inside and out. Deeply giddy by the idea of her affection towards him. 

But then another question hits him. She said, ’There WAS a time.’ As in past tense. Not in present times. 

He gulps, fearful of hearing the answer, no matter what kind there is. But he needs to hear this. 

”When did I lose you?” 

Because somehow, somewhere, he has evidently lost her. 

She shakes her head and finally tears her eyes from him, avoiding his most awaiting gaze. ”This isn’t a convenient time to do this.” 

She takes a step away as if she aims to leave him and he habitually grabs her wrist, desperate to have her stay. 

When she turns back to him, her look is painful. 

”Tell me.” 

He needs to know. Nothing has never felt as important as the following words she shall say. 

It takes her a longer moment to decide what to say. 

”I finally not only understood,” Penelope swallows. ”But also accepted, that you’d never see me as anything beyond your sister’s friend. At last I finally moved on.” 

Colin’s jaw tightens. He really does not want to know, at the same time his nosiness cannot be stopped. 

”When the count began courting you?” 

Confirming his words, by repeating him, she nods and lets it out as if she is giving up on something. On him. 

”When the count began courting me.” 

He is literally about to go insane. 

He cannot believe he has had her wanting him and him being oblivious to that. If someone could just rewind time, he would pay that person all he has. How could he have been this blind? 

The information is not only frustrating but immensely infuriating. He had her bloody affection without knowing it. Without noticing it and most of all, without doing anything about it. He has been such a dumb idiot. 

”Penelope,” he eyes her deeply and moves his fingers under her chin, gently forcing her to face him. Her eyes are teary, scared and he feels awful for understanding he is the cause of this. ”You are the most enchanting woman I’ve ever met.” 

Her painful expression remains. 

”You’re not supposed to say that.” 

His hands clench into the fabrics of her nightgown and her breath hitches by his needy gesture. 

”Yes I am.” 

She shakes her head again but when her eyes land on his lips, he cannot take it anymore. He tries to fight against it, but to no avail. ”But it isn’t fair. You ought to leave me alone, or I will just fall right back…” 

As if it could not have happened any faster, he at last closes the gap between them. To finally release all tension and finally feel the hotness of her lips against his. 

Damn this is not what he should have done, but definitely what he needed. What they needed. God, the softness of her lips makes him go insane. She is pure addiction. His whole body is trembling in his mad want for this woman. The craving so bad he is drowning into the kiss. 

Forcefully, he has to pull himself back from her to not completely lose himself. 

There are so many apologies that should be said. Him behaving like this, but he cannot find any word to utter. Because he cannot find himself to apologize for what he wanted the most, which was indeed, to kiss her. 

Her eyes flutter open and that is when he realizes that she does not look angry at all. Taking him all by surprise, he feels the warmth of her hands clutch at his chest, in his shirt and he has never been more turned on. Demandingly she pulls him back to her and he urgently reclaims her lips. 

She actually wants him to kiss her. 

Hungrily he deepens it and finds himself now, for real, pinning her against that wall. In his deep yearning, he does not even care that his groans escaping by pure satisfaction must reveal his true and bad want for her. It is to no use anymore to even try to deny that he wants to make love to her already. If he had known this is how her lips taste, he never would have waited this long. 

From having his hands in her silky hair at the back of her head, to pin hers above her head, he also understands the inappropriateness of lying above her in her bed. He really should not do this, but he cannot refrain himself from her. As if her kissing is pulling out his very soul out of his body, he is attached to her as if she is his air. 

When he pulls the cleavage parts of her gown down, he feels her spine arch beneath him. In his arms like this, he knows he will implode if he shall not have her. He wants all of her and he wants to hear his name on her lips when she will climax in lovemaking. 

Indulging in Penelope Featherington is pure danger for any decency Colin Bridgerton ever may have had. 

His manhood is pushing against her and he finds her willingly responding by spreading her legs to access him closer. Possessively she has her hands at the back of his head, pressing him more against her and he understands how profoundly the effect has gotten to even her. 

He can literally feel pain by the strong desire he has for her. He wants her so badly his inner is physically paining him. It stings within him and the aching feeling is so bad he has probably never kissed anybody this hungrily before. 

Because by God, he is hungry for Penelope. 

Those kissable lips. The taste of her tongue. Her appealing scent… She is driving him crazy. 

Intensely he grinds against her all the while his hand works her gown up her legs as he eats her up. And all the while she keeps matching his every movement with equal pushing and longing to display her want. 

Everything feels right. Awfully right. He wants to claim that he is able to contain himself and pretend this is no one but an old friend of his. But truth be told, she is far from just anybody to him. Definitely far from just a friend. Nothing has ever felt this fulfilling. Every part of him hungers for this woman and he wants to have it no other way. 

But no matter how much he wants to kill himself for realizing what he must do, he heavily finds himself needing to take charge before he will try to damage this far too severely. 

His inner gravely craves her. But he wants more. He does not just want to make love all night long, hear her lovely moaning against his lips and melt into the warmth of the hotness of her body. 

He wants more. 

He stops kissing her and lifts himself enough to be able to view her. Heavily she breaths and he can admit he has never seen a more tempting imagine play if so in his dreams. 

”Marry me.” 

But by the look on her lovely face, he knows that she will not accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments! Means the world, much appreciated! :-) We're far from the end of this story, but hope you like it so far.


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